MONOGRAM PUZZLE.

There is a novelty and ingenuity about this puzzle that can not fail to delight our puzzle-loving readers. Here, under a fanciful disguise, are four lines of poetry. Our artist has taken each word of a simple stanza, and worked the letters into a graceful monogram. Among the monograms may be found four well-known names. Take the four diagonals, beginning with the one in the left-hand corner. The first two and the last give the names of three popular authors, and the third that of a famous play.

There is not a bit of use in being discouraged about it, children; but we are not ashamed to tell you that sometimes we feel just a very little blue when we have to lay aside so many of your dear letters simply because we have not room enough to print them. And then we think of the sweet faces that will be clouded with disappointment, and the provoked faces that will frown, when the Post-office Box comes week after week without the letters John and Jenny are watching for so patiently. But, as we said, it isn't worth while to fret and cry, and so we, for ourselves, make up our minds to enjoy hearing about the goats that draw the little wagons, and the kittens that have such fearful fits, and the birds which are so cunning, and the babies who are so cute. We like to be told, even though we can not print the letters which so inform us, that Molly's little sister Bess is learning to walk, and that Arthur's brother Freddie claps his hands when he looks at the pictures in Harper's Young People. And if you'll keep the secret, and never whisper it to anybody, we'll tell you that we love just as dearly, and perhaps a wee, tiny morsel more dearly, the boys and girls whose words we do not print, than those whose letters are published in Our Post-office Box.

Cedar Hill, Pulaski County, Kentucky.

We have been taking Young People since last June; I like it very much. I am ten years old. We live in the country, and our home is called Cedar Hill because it has a great many cedar-trees in the yard, and is on a hill. We have six canaries; they sing very sweetly, and are very nice pets. We have a little black shepherd dog; we call him Jipsy; he is very playful.

Sophie M.

This dear little fellow who feeds the sparrows forgot to print his address at the top of his letter. It is a very nice letter notwithstanding:

I can not write good, so I will have to print my letter. I like Harper's Young People better than any of my story-books. I have about two hundred pets. You could never guess what they are, so I will tell you; they are sparrows, and they are so tame that they will come and perch on the window-sill and look for me to feed them. I give them bread every day. Sometimes, if I do not see them, they go around to the dining-room windows, and peep for me to come. They have a nest inside our garret window.

I wish Jimmy Brown would write and tell what he got for his Christmas. I hope his stocking was full. I got lots of nice things from Santa Claus. Good-by.

Theodore G. H.

Yoncalla, Oregon.

We have a dog and five cats. Our dog's name is Telephone. He is a good dog to catch rats and mice. We had a merry Christmas. My brother and I milk the cows and chop the wood. I am eleven years old, and my twin brother and I are going to grub all the ground we can this winter, and pa is going to plough it, and give us the proceeds. We have got about an acre and a half grubbed out. We grubbed up a snake four feet long.

George L.

Grubbing must be hard work, George, and we have no doubt it develops your muscles wonderfully. What are your brother and you going to do with your money when you receive it?

Danvers, Massachusetts.

I am a little girl in the third class in the grammar school, and my age is nine years. I have never seen a letter from Eastern Massachusetts in Young People, and so I thought that perhaps you would put mine in print.

Danvers is noted as the birth-place of the celebrated London banker George Peabody; also of General Putnam, who was so famous in the Revolution.

I am very fond of your paper, and wish it came every day.

May P. G.

Salubria, Idaho.

I have taken Harper's Young People for almost a year. I like it very much. I look every week to see what new trouble has befallen poor Jimmy Brown, and if I were his sister I would make him a jacket and stuff it with feathers. I can hardly wait for the papers to come, so as to hear what has become of Rita and Ni-ha-be. I have lived almost all my life in the valleys of Idaho. There are many beautiful sights here, such pretty flowers grow in valley and mountain. One kind grows right near the edge of the snow, away up the mountain-side. One can step right from the blossoms to the snow.

I wish I could have a good school to go to, like so many little girls of my age. I have attended school but nine months in my life. My mother teaches me at home. I have two horses all my own and a saddle, and can ride splendidly, mamma says. I am twelve years old.

Alma C.

Though deprived of the opportunity of going to school, you have learned to use your eyes, and see the beautiful things which God has made; and if you study and read and profit by your mother's instruction, you will lay a good foundation for the class-room when you are older. It is quite an advantage, too, to ride so well, and the health you gain as you canter over the hills is something to be thankful for.

Prospect, Oneida County, New York.

I live up here near the North Woods, and it is hard work to get books to read, and the winters are long. My father is a guide, and will send any one who will mail me a good book, a map of the Canada lake region, showing the route from Utica, via Trenton Falls, through the wilderness to the lakes.

My father was in the war, and when the powder-magazine blew up at Yorktown, Virginia, in December, 1863, he found between the walls of an old brick house a curious pipe, made of mahogany, bone, and brass, and he says I may offer it in exchange for a printing-press and type, or a very fine scroll-saw and the attachments.

I am eleven years old, and my pa says your paper is full of the best reading for boys.

Alfred B. Worden.

Arivaca, Arizona.

My brother takes Young People, and we both enjoy reading it very much. We wish to tell you of our pony, which we all love dearly. When we have ridden him, he always wants a piece of bread or some sugar, and if we do not give it to him as soon as he is unsaddled, he opens the side door by turning the knob with his lips. Should we drive him away and shut the door, he immediately opens it again, and stands by it until he gets his piece, when he will go off to eat grass. He is very gentle and knowing. Our mamma writes this for us, as we were afraid you would have too much trouble to study it out if we wrote it.

Lena and Charlie B.

What a wise pony! He deserves a large piece of bread with sugar on it; and we hope he never has to wait long for his reward after taking his little master and mistress to ride.

Detroit, Michigan.

I am a little boy eight years old. I take Young People. My sister takes St Nicholas. I was twelve miles out in the country the other day. The cars pass our door. We have a type-writer, and I write on it instead of with a pen. My papa is a lawyer, and I copy testimony sometimes. We have a little baby, and we call him Mr. Google, but his right name is Herbert.

Norman F.

Your beautiful type-writing made us feel like congratulating your father that he has so intelligent and skillful a copyist.

Woodbury, New Jersey.

Can any one beat Woodbury for late dandelions? The one inclosed was found on our lawn this morning, January 10.

H.

And a little beauty it must have been, as we can testify, who received it pressed.

Beulah, Kansas.

I read before our lyceum the story of Jimmy Brown and his monkey; it made everybody laugh. My uncle sent me a pair of Italian Leghorn chickens. They are beauties. We call the rooster John, and the hen Biddy. Biddy lays an egg every day. I think it pays to keep a hen. We live in Southeastern Kansas; this is the great coal, lead, and zinc region. We have had a very mild winter so far. This country is thickly settled. There has been a large immigration during the last two years. We have school nine months out of the year. I am eight years old, and read in the Fifth Reader, and study geography, grammar, arithmetic, spelling, and writing.

William Pitt A.

I am a little girl just six years old, and my name is Joe. I read all the letters in Young People. I have a cat named Cutty; but her whole name is Connecticut, because she came from there in a box by express. She is very smart, and can do a great many tricks. She can lie down as if she were dead; can stand on her hind-legs; says her prayers, gives her paw to shake hands, sits upon the piano-stool with her paws on the keys, and her head thrown back, as if she were singing a song. She sits at the table in a high chair, with a napkin around her neck, and laps milk from a saucer without putting her paws on the table. Now have any of the Young People got a smarter cat than mine? I like Harper's Young People very much, and when I have finished reading it, I send it to a little boy who lives on a farm in the country, where I spent last summer. I have no brothers or sisters. But I am going to be a doctor when I am big.

J. W. K.

We would like to know where this little girl lives, as she forgot to tell us. Perhaps she will write again.

Santa Cruz, California.

As I have seen only one letter from here, and that from my friend Edith D., I thought I would write and tell you about my doll Martha Washington. She is very large, and a perfect beauty. She has a nice dress, and my mother is going to make me a nice hat for her. My doll has brown eyes and white hair. We have two dogs and two cats at our house, and each of the children has a fine bow and a set of arrows, and we have a target to shoot at.

Jessie N. D.

When you have learned to sew so well that you can make Madam Martha Washington a dress and a hat with your own skillful fingers, you must write and tell us how much you enjoy working for the darling yourself. Little girls often learn to sew very beautifully by making clothes for their dolls, and we think it is a great accomplishment to sew neatly by hand as well as on the machine. What does your mother think?

Cross Village, Michigan.

I live on the shore of Lake Michigan, about twenty-five miles from old Fort Mackinaw. It is lovely in the summer season to see the vessels pass. Many of them land at the dock. We can also see two light-houses. I think "Talking Leaves" is splendid. I have two brothers and one sister. Ernest, Henry, and Olla are their names. My grandma sent Young People to me last year. Isn't she a dear good grandma? I am eleven years old.

M. Effa G.

Be sure to try your skill at unravelling our puzzle column, little readers. You will find it a charming occupation for winter evenings. Try to send us some puzzles of your own invention, inclosing the answer invariably with the puzzle. We wish to print a long list of successful solvers next week. If you can not untangle every enigma and arrange every word square, never mind, but send us the answers of those which you can puzzle out, and do not be discouraged by a little trouble at the outset. The fun of making out a puzzle is in conquering it.

C. Y. P. R. U.

A lady writes to us that she has found great satisfaction in reading Harper's Young People to a number of boys, whom she invites to meet at her house every Wednesday evening. She says she finds the stories and articles excellent and charming. Besides reading aloud to the boys, she lends them books, and, we presume, assists them in other womanly and Christian ways to grow up to a useful and intelligent manhood. We desire to thank Miss E. J. Y. for her kind letter, and we are not without the hope that our allusion to it may indicate to other friends an easy and beautiful method for doing good.

Angie.—To make nice sago gruel for your invalid sister, wash an ounce of sago very carefully, and then soak it for two hours in a pint of tepid water; simmer it in the same water about fifteen minutes, stirring it gently. Sweeten and flavor it, and serve it at once.—Your milk toast will be delicious if you brown your toast very evenly, dip it for an instant into boiling water, and then spread it with a very little butter. Lay it in a deep hot plate; a soup plate will do. Boil a tea-cupful of milk, which you must thicken with a tea-spoonful of corn starch mixed with a pinch of salt in a little cold water. Pour this over your toast.

In serving sick people with food please be sure not to offer them too much at a time. Do not bother them by saying, "Would you like this?" and "Will you have that?" They do not know what they wish, and they think they want nothing. They have to be coaxed to eat, not in words, but by offering them dainty things daintily and prettily prepared. The finest, cleanest napkin, the thinnest, loveliest cup and saucer, and the brightest silver should be taken when you are arranging the meals of invalids. Sometimes, after all your trouble, they will scarcely taste what you have prepared, and perhaps they may be a little cross and petulant. Remember then that suffering has made them weak and tired, and do not be discouraged, but try again, for on good and patient nursing the doctor depends for success in treating the sick as much us he does on his medicines and his skill.

D. C. H.—There is a real Jimmy Brown. The Postmistress has seen him several times.

J. B.—It is easy to make a tennis net if you have any one to show you how, but it is almost impossible to describe the manner of making it so as to be understood. If you live near the sea-shore, you can get some fisherman to teach you. If not, perhaps your mother or her seamstress can show you how to make it. If you can not learn before next summer, and yet want the net very badly, you may buy one for three dollars.

Rita.—You will probably obtain the information you desire about the care of silk-worms by addressing the Ladies' Silk-culture Association, 1028 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania (over Keystone National Bank). This association, which is doing much to stimulate this branch of industry, has recently given an exhibition at St. George's Hall in Philadelphia. It was formally opened by Governor Hoyt, ex-Governor Pollock, and other distinguished gentlemen. It was designed to illustrate the various branches of the silk industry from the forming of cocoons to the perfected fabric.

It would seem as if the variety of the articles to which we would call the attention of the C. Y. P. R. U. this week was extensive enough to please readers of all tastes and ages. Mr. George Cary Eggleston carries us back to those terrible days of religious persecution when differences in creed bathed the soil of France with blood; Mr. Ralph Watson tells us of the curious "Collocalia," whose nests supply the Chinese with the principal ingredient of one of their most highly esteemed soups; Mr. Charles Barnard gives us full information how to while away our leisure hours with the interesting and inexpensive and at the same time instructive pastime of taking photographs; and Mr. B. Hardwicke tells the boys and girls how to supersede the pleasures of coasting by the more exciting sport to be had with the toboggan.

YOUNG PEOPLE'S COT.

We publish this week the January report of Miss E. Augusta Fanshawe, and repeat that the contributions for Young People's Cot should be sent to the treasurer of the Cot Fund, and not to Messrs. Harper & Brothers. Please read Aunt Edna's letter, children.

New York City.

In my last letter I told you I would soon let you know something from our hospital. Well, the other day I went there, and such a chatter of little voices as met my ear when the door opened! I could hardly believe I was going to a place where there was sickness and pain. I went up stairs to Holy Innocent's Ward—our ward, you know—and how bright and sunny it looked! Sister Miriam, the kind Sister who has charge of it, and who I wish you all knew, as she is sunshine itself, was putting the finishing touches to the morning dressing of the little ones. Every bed had its occupant, though many of the children were not then in bed, but were running about the room; and I was quickly surrounded by several little "tots," who wanted to rub my muff, and see some cards I had that a kind lady had sent them. But just now I am only going to speak of two children and one cot, though I could easily tell you interesting things of many more if I did not feel afraid the Postmistress would shake her head.

Sister Miriam is much pleased with your efforts, and thinks you will certainly raise the whole amount if you will only keep on trying, and to encourage you all she has selected a cot that will be ours just as soon as we raise the money, but not before, remember. It is the first cot in the south end of the room, right in the sunshine, near a big window, where our child can look down on Thirty-fourth Street. When I was there the occupant of that cot was a funny little colored boy named Willie Stanward. He had been very sick with something called by a very long name—pneumonia—but was a great deal better, and when I saw him he was sitting in a little chair near the window playing with something—looking very much like a doll. He was only a wee boy, you know. He was going home very soon, well, and Sister Miriam thought she would put in his place a little white boy named Robert McGee, who, she said, made very queer speeches, and was ever so funny. The doctor had been making his legs straight, which before were crooked, and though it was pretty hard to bear, he was getting on very nicely. He also was a very little boy. I took up a "mite chest" and put it over that cot, and think when we open it we will find something to help on our work.

Now good-by, but don't forget that we have not got the cot yet, but must all try hard and raise the money, and then think how glad we will all feel when we can say that is the Young People's Cot.

Aunt Edna.

Contributions received for Young People's Cot in Holy Innocent's Ward, St. Mary's Free Hospital for Children, 407 West Thirty-fourth Street, New York:

Willie and Georgie Campbell, Drummondville, $1; Clare Gardiner, Troy, N. Y., 25c.; In Memoriam M. A., "a dear little one who will never need the cot," $30; Kitty Tutwiler, Flatonia, Texas, 10c.; Nobe Taylor, Flatonia, Texas, 10c.; Charles Roy Bangs, Brooklyn, $3; Mary Dean, 25c.; Jennie Dart, Kingston, N. Y., $1; Ida Allison, Harlem, N. Y., $2; Willie Allison, Harlem, N. Y., $2; T. Robert Palmer, Palatka, Fla., 50c.; Will D. Sayer, Meadville, Penn., $2; Green Clay, Jun., Mexico, Mo., $1; Ellie Earle, Chelten Hills, Penn., $1; Agnes D. Cram, Mechanic Falls, 10c.; Jennie Bolton, New York City, $1—total, $45.30. Previously acknowledged, $201.39; total, January 16, $246.69.

E. Augusta Fanshawe, Treasurer, 43 New Street, New York City.

Flatonia, Texas, December 15, 1881.

I send you my Three Little Kittens book for all the children in that room. I send you a dime for that bed you wrote about. Papa read us that letter, and our black boy said he wanted to send a dime too. His name is Nobe Taylor. He has lived with us for nine years, and nursed me when I was a baby. He is big and fat. This is all I've got to send. Aunt Net sent me the book from Alabama last Christmas. Our school-teacher is going to give us a Christmas tree. I can't write good enough, and got papa to write this for me.

Kitty Tutwiler.

P.S.—Nobe incloses his dime too.

Chelten Hills, Pennsylvania.

I got a good many china animals for Christmas, and now I have forty-one altogether. Sophie and Horace, two of my school-mates, have one hundred and fifty-one; Sophie has only fifteen of them, though. I got a lovely coaster for Christmas, and I want to use it very much. There is about an inch of snow on the ground now, but not enough for coasting; there has not been deep snow on the ground all winter. In my letter I send a dollar for the Young People's Cot. Our tree was just taken down to-day, and the room where it was looks all bare to me.

Ellie Earle.

There are a number of other little letters about the Cot, and they are very bright and sweet, but we have not room to insert any more.

PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.

No. 1.

ENIGMA.

I am composed of 12 letters, and mean yielding content.

My 1, 2, 3 is having placed.

My 4, 5 is a verb.

My 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 is a manufactory.

Emma A.

No. 2.

A WORD SQUARE.

1. To surrender. 2. A sluggard. 3. A funeral dirge. 4. Lawful. 5. Sarcastically spoken.

Empire City.

No. 3.

HISTORICAL ACROSTIC.

1. A battle of the Revolution. 2. A President. 3. An inventor. 4. An island. 5. A river in Asia. 6. One of the great lakes. 7. A battle of the French and Indian war. 8. One of the United States. 9. A country in Africa. The primals form the name of a distinguished French general.

No. 4.

PI.

Ti asw het meit ehnw seliil lobw. Dan doulcs rea gihhset pu ni rai. Rold noladr gouhtbr a yill heitw oed Ot iveg sih sioune dyal lerac.

Straighten out, and form a stanza from Tennyson.

Emma.

No. 5.

?

Forward, I am a lady's name. Backward, I stand for something which will make men forget troubles. You will find me in Anglo-Saxon nurseries, and in ancient mythology.

Robert.

No. 6.

DIAMOND.

1. A consonant. 2. A hut. 3. Reeds. 4. Good policy. 5. Fretful. 6. A pen. 7. A letter.

No. 7.

A DOUBLE SQUARE.

Across.—1. A girl's name. 2. A word used in prayers. 3. A hole. 4. Finishes. Down.—1. A cavern. 2. A sign. 3. To tear. 4. Small insects.

Eloise.

ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN No. 116.

No. 1.

The eye.

No. 2.

SS

SHEROT

SHALLSOLAR

ELMTAR

LR

No. 3.

Adder. Cobra.

No. 4.

CalM

AnemonE

MattresS

EdificE

LaudanuM

LamB

IdleR

AbundantlY

JerboA

AmazoN

PinT

OstricH

NightingalE

Ice-creaM

ChapeaU

AlarM

Correct answers to puzzles have been received from Eva Brown, Annie Brown, Ambrose Elting, F. M. S., "Jack Frost," Artie Secor, John Phelan, J. and H. Bates, Hetty R., J. C., Alice E. Garretson, "Prince," Henry Berlan, Jun., "Bud," R. H. L., Maggie Dutto, Meredith Knapp, Susie Perkins, "Snap," Alice Emmons.

[For Exchanges, see 2d and 3d pages of cover.]